Summer scene

It’s summer in Rutland, today. I type slowly, basking in the late afternoon sunshine of a soft blue day - we have yet to reach the dizzy depths of August’s rare indigo or July’s extraordinary azure. Perched on the edge of my deckchair, sunnies plastered Bono-style to my face, I peer through my pinking reflection at the ghostly typeface beneath: the eyes may strain but at least the wrinkles are held at bay. Our gentle shire raises it’s newly formed tendrils, fresh silver leaves sparkling in the tenderest of breezes as a harrier scrapes itself across the sky. Now, I didn’t say we were perfect, did I? At least, not yet… Best of all, the first squirt of sun-lotion has transported to me to every-holiday; the Factor 15 is well and truly in effect.